The Dragon Seed Box Set

by Resa Nelson

  She remembered how Fiera had faced Skallagrim when he’d come upon the aftermath of the fight between the demon Frandulane, his Northlander cousins, Pingzi, Benzel, and Hsu Mao. She remembered how Fiera had warned Skallagrim to make sure her sister’s death was not in vain. “Who was your sister to Skallagrim?”

  “His wife,” Fiera said.

  Astonished, Pingzi said, “But I know Skallagrim! He’s a dragonslayer. How can a dragonslayer marry a dragon? How can a dragonslayer marry the sister of a dragon goddess?”

  Fiera blew a few wisps of smoke, and a final smoke ring escaped her mouth. “It’s none of your concern. It’s a matter of gods, not mortals.”

  Pingzi remembered the demon rage she’d felt inside her own spirit when she saw her husband murdered. She remembered how much strength it took for her to resist letting that demon spirit consume her. It still took strength to hold onto all the things she believed and who she chose to be in this mortal world.

  Maybe Skallagrim wasn’t as fortunate. If he battled to hold onto himself, then he lost. The demon rage he must have felt when he found his dragon wife dead overtook him.

  The thought of it chilled Pingzi. Not just because she had skated so close to that edge herself, but because the first demon she’d been called to quell was Benzel, Skallagrim’s father.

  She’d hoped his son could be stronger.

  “I will consider your request for me to quell the new demon Skallagrim,” Pingzi said. “But I must discuss it with my dead husband. Assuming you can make that happen.”

  “As I said, arrangements can be made for you to see your husband if you agree to quell this new demon.”

  Pingzi gave an exaggerated shrug. “That poses a problem. My husband was my greatest ally, and I don’t feel the confidence I require to quell demons without his advice.”

  A red glow of anger crept up Fiera’s neck. “Even if it means placing the mortals in this world at risk?”

  Pingzi didn’t believe that the entire world could be in dire need of help. She did believe that Fiera often made matters seem more urgent for the sake of getting her way.

  Pingzi gave another shrug.

  “It will take time,” Fiera said. “But you will see your husband. Consult with him. And then find the demon Skallagrim and quell him before it’s too late.”

  CHAPTER 10

  Taking the tavern keeper’s advice to heart, the milkmaid took her son Mandulane to the recommended alchemist in the Midlands port city. Even if she hadn’t noticed the peculiar wooden shack squeezed between two proper houses on the city’s main cobblestone street, the milkmaid would have recognized the apothecary by the variety of scents surrounding it. Earthy and ethereal. Sweet and revolting. Floral and rotting.

  Mandulane noticed them, too. He scrunched his nose in distaste.

  The milkmaid clung to his hand and marched toward the open door of the apothecary.

  “No!” Mandulane protested.

  The milkmaid kept a tight grip on his hand. “It’s important.”

  Mandulane wrenched his hand free. “I want Papa. Where’s Papa?”

  The milkmaid felt her insides twist into knots.

  No boy deserves what Frandulane has done to him. What kind of man deserts his son?

  And what kind of mother does what I’m about to do?

  For a moment, the milkmaid considered a change of plan. She could return to her Midlander home village. Even though she had no family, some villagers would remember her. They might help her find work and a place where she and Mandulane could live. They didn’t have the means to arrange for proper travel, but the distance could be walked in a matter of weeks. It wasn’t an impossible task.

  But the villagers would remember that she’d left with a Scalding and the intent of living on Tower Island. There would be questions to answer. Suspicions to subdue. Accusations to deny.

  No. The alchemist had to be the best solution.

  The milkmaid knelt and faced her son, determined to show him patience and kindness. At the same time, she knew getting him inside the apothecary required a convincing lie. “Papa said he would meet us here.”

  Mandulane frowned. He looked in all directions. “I don’t see him.”

  “Inside.” The milkmaid forced a smile. “Papa said he would meet us inside.”

  Mandulane squinted and appeared to ponder her words. “He never said that to me.”

  The milkmaid smiled so wide that it made her mouth hurt. “He said it to me. He wanted to surprise you.”

  The boy peered over his mother’s shoulder at the open door. “I don’t see him.”

  “Like I said, it’s a surprise. I bet he’s hiding.” The milkmaid’s mind raced for a good reason to convince the boy not to search for his father. “He’d be so sad if he knew I told you. Let’s pretend you don’t know. It’ll be like playing a game!”

  “But I want to see him now,” Mandulane whispered. His face collapsed in sorrow.

  “Think about how happy he’ll be when he jumps out and thinks you’re surprised. Don’t you want to make Papa happy?”

  Mandulane scrunched his face up. “He’ll be happy? Like he used to be long ago?”

  The milkmaid relaxed into a genuine smile, full of relief. “Yes. Happy like he used to be long ago.”

  Mandulane nodded and offered his hand to his mother. “Then I’ll act real surprised when he jumps out.”

  “I’ll pretend, too.” The final lie pained the milkmaid the most. “I’ll be saying silly things, but they’re all just excuses for us being here. Don’t pay any mind to what I say.”

  Taking firm hold of her son’s hand, the milkmaid took him into the apothecary.

  The mixture of strange odors that hung outside the building became far more intense inside. The air felt so thick with scents that the milkmaid struggled to breathe.

  Other than a small counter near the door, the floor of the small building stood open. Its boards were weathered and uneven. Shelves jammed every wall from floor to ceiling. Glass and clay bottles of every shape and size crammed those shelves. Knee-high jars with wooden stoppers lined the lowest shelves. Each ascending shelf displayed smaller and smaller containers. The vessels on the highest shelves looked like storage bottles made for dolls or pixies.

  Seeing no one, the milkmaid called out “Hello,” despite the small size of the room.

  A middle-aged woman popped up from behind the counter. She kept her dark red hair in a tight braid that wrapped around her head. She wore a dingy apron over a bright blue dress. “I didn’t hear you come in.” She brushed her hands together as if wiping off dust, making the air around them glow pale yellow for a moment. “How can I help?”

  The milkmaid glanced down at Mandulane and gave a big wink to remind him of her lie about speaking nonsense to the alchemist. Looking back at the red-haired woman, the milkmaid told her which tavern keeper had sent her and that she needed a potion for forgetting.

  The alchemist leaned on the counter between them. “I see. What do you need to forget?”

  The milkmaid locked her gaze with the alchemist and then dropped it toward her son. “The past. The very recent past.” When she looked back at the alchemist, the milkmaid believed she saw understanding in the woman’s eyes.

  Mandulane yanked on his mother’s hand to free himself of her grip. He placed both hands on the counter, which stood at eye-level for him. Standing on his toes, he peered over it with curious eyes.

  He thinks Frandulane is hiding back there. It’s the only place here where anyone could hide.

  Hoping to distract him, the milkmaid said, “Why don’t you go look at all the pretty bottles?”

  “That’s not a good idea,” the alchemist said. “The pretty bottles hold ingredients. Many are dangerous unless you know how to handle them properly.”

  Heaving a sigh, Mandulane plopped onto the floor.

  The alchemist leaned over the counter and looked down at him as if making sure he would stay put. Satisfied, she straightened and ad
dressed the milkmaid. “There are different ways to forget. I can make you forget for good. Or make the memory foggy, where you’re not sure if what you think you remember is right or wrong. I can even make it so you have a slight memory of what happened but you don’t care. Whatever you choose, it’ll make whatever pain you might be feeling go away. And that’s the point, isn’t it?”

  “It isn’t for me.” Once again, the milkmaid glanced down at her son and then back at the alchemist.

  “So I gathered,” the alchemist said. “But if you don’t mind a bit of advice, those at such a young age often forget without help. Why not let nature take its course?”

  The milkmaid twisted the silver wedding ring on her finger. It was the last thing she had of any real value. She had to make its value count for something that mattered. “It’s complicated.”

  “How so?”

  The milkmaid spoke in a low voice, hoping Mandulane wouldn’t hear. “It’s a matter of having been a Scalding and living on Tower Island. No one should risk having to live with those memories.”

  The alchemist’s expression hardened. “Scalding.”

  “Not by blood,” the milkmaid whispered. “By marriage. Over now.” She took the silver wedding ring from her finger and placed it on the counter. She pushed it toward the alchemist. “Payment for your help.”

  The alchemist turned her back to the milkmaid and searched the shelves behind the counter. Reaching high, the alchemist retrieved several small and dark-colored bottles. She measured and poured bits from each bottle into a small bowl: tiny dried flowers, fragrant herbs, and stinky needles. Using a pestle, the alchemist ground the contents into a fine dust. “You can use this in several ways. Dissolve in water to drink. Or rub into his skin. Or rub into his hair and let it stay there for weeks. Or another thing is…”

  A loud crash made the alchemist and the milkmaid jump.

  The milkmaid first looked at her feet only to discover Mandulane no longer sat by them. She looked across the floor and saw him sitting by the shards of a broken jar. Clumps of dried grass and large black pods surrounded him.

  “No!” the alchemist cried out. She rushed to Mandulane but stayed a few steps away from him. “That’s Dragon Claw Grass. It’s volatile. He shouldn’t touch it.”

  The milkmaid forced herself to remain calm. “Mandulane. Stay still. Don’t touch anything.”

  The look on Mandulane’s face told the milkmaid that he heard the terror in her voice. He whimpered but kept still.

  The alchemist talked to herself while scanning the lower shelves. “Raven feathers, too magical. Shaved oaken stump, too potent.” She paused. “Milkweed. That’s mild.” The alchemist pulled a tall jar from the low shelf, removed its stopper, and dumped its contents in a corner. Dry pods rattled against the wooden floor, and lots of silky white fluff drifted up in the air.

  Placing the now-empty jar near Mandulane, the alchemist whipped off her apron and used it like a glove to pick up the Dragon Claw Grass that had spilled out of the jar the boy had broken. Once finished, she stoppered the jar and put it into the empty space on the shelf nearby. The alchemist then removed the shards and placed them behind the counter.

  Before Mandulane could stand, the alchemist hovered above him and used her apron to pick clumps of debris from his clothing. “There could be some slight contamination,” she told the milkmaid. “I can’t guarantee any results because of it.”

  Once the alchemist finished clearing the debris and stuffing it into the jar, she snapped her apron at Mandulane. The force of it blew a shimmering dust from his clothes. A few stray milkweed silks spun up into the air. The alchemist placed the apron to one side and looked at the milkmaid. “Do I have your permission to continue?”

  The milkmaid pondered the question and stared at her son. “You said there might be contamination. What does that mean? Will the past haunt him?”

  “That’s doubtful,” the alchemist said. “Getting rid of memories typically isn’t the problem in cases of contamination. What happens more often is that his memories from now on will get muddled.”

  “Muddled? In what way?” The milkmaid frowned. “Isn’t that dangerous? What if he forgets something important?”

  “He won’t forget much. It’s more a matter that his memories will become fluid.” The alchemist hesitated as if searching for words. “They won’t necessarily be the same from day to day. Such as, twenty years from now, on a Tuesday he might remember moving to the Midlands at the age of five. The next day he might remember moving at the age of eight. That kind of thing.”

  “Mama?” Still seated on the floor, Mandulane looked up at the milkmaid with wide eyes. “Can we go now?”

  The milkmaid considered his question. The silver wedding ring she’d offered for payment still rested on top of the counter. It would be easy to reclaim the ring. It would be easy to walk away for the sake of keeping Mandulane’s memories intact and stable.

  But how would that help my son? What good will it do for him to remember the way his father abandoned us? Or the way the Scaldings made us feel like outcasts on the island that was supposed to be our home?

  “Soon,” the milkmaid told Mandulane. “We’ll leave soon. Just not quite yet.”

  To the alchemist, the milkmaid said, “It’s a small enough price to pay. Please continue.”

  Returning to the counter, the alchemist completed the task of grinding the concoction. She retrieved a small bottle from the highest shelf behind the counter and measured out a portion in the palm of her hand. She dumped it into the bowl and mixed it with the dry potion with gentle fingertips.

  The alchemist picked up a chalky rock from a shelf and approached Mandulane. She said, “We’re going to play a game. Do you like games?”

  The boy nodded but remained silent.

  “Good. You sit where you are. The game begins with a story.”

  The alchemist sat on the floor and spoke while she used the chalky rock to draw a white circle about Mandulane. “Once upon a time, a good boy lived with his good mother.”

  “Like me and Mama?” Mandulane said.

  “Exactly like you and your mother. They had great adventures together. Some of those adventures made the boy happy, but other adventures made him feel sad or disappointed or heart-broken.” The alchemist finished drawing the chalk circle on the floor. She sat close to Mandulane, but the line of the circle separated them. “Has anything ever made you feel like that?”

  Mandulane’s eyes teared, and he stared at the circle drawn on the floorboards.

  The alchemist continued. “The gods took pity on the boy and his mother by sending magic that would take all of those bad feelings out of their hearts so they could feel nothing but happiness again.” She sprinkled the concoction she’d created on top of the white chalk line. “Would you like that?”

  The boy gave a slight nod.

  The alchemist stood and retrieved a piece of flint from the pouch tied to her belt. She pulled out the dagger she kept tucked beneath that belt. “Do you like magic?”

  Mandulane looked up at her.

  The alchemist struck the flint with her dagger until sparks dropped onto the white chalk circle.

  When the sparks met the chalk and the potion on top of it, those sparks sizzled like fat falling into a fire from roasted meat on a turning spit.

  The sparks exploded into a thick, circular wall of blood-red smoke around the boy.

  “Mandulane!” the milkmaid screamed. She rushed toward her son, but the alchemist intercepted and held the frantic mother back.

  “Trust the magic,” the alchemist said. “It’s working as expected.”

  The milkmaid wrung her hands and paced in the small room, anxious to catch sight of her son again. “Mandulane? Are you alright in there?”

  A muffled voice said, “Yes, Mama.”

  The smoke twisted and turned until it formed the shape of a snake that wound around Mandulane’s neck. It then spiraled down his body so that it wrapped the boy from head to
toe.

  The sight made the milkmaid’s skin crawl. “Are you sure you’re alright?” she said.

  Mandulane shuddered but then grinned. “Look at me! I’ve got magic all over me!”

  “That you do,” the alchemist said. The chalk circle had vanished, and she stepped on the spot where she had first begun to draw it. The alchemist leaned close to Mandulane and clapped her hands in front of his face.

  The smoke turned into fine grains of red dust that dissolved onto Mandulane.

  Distressed, the boy held out his hands and stared at them. “Where did the magic go?”

  “There’s nothing to worry about,” the alchemist said. “The magic is still all over you. And some of it has gone inside you.”

  Mandulane grinned.

  The alchemist turned to face the milkmaid. “Don’t bathe the boy or change his clothes for two weeks. Don’t let him outside in the rain. Keep him dry so the magic can settle on him.”

  Astonished by all she’d seen inside the apothecary, the milkmaid didn’t have the presence of mind to ask why. Instead, she simply nodded.

  Mandulane climbed to his feet. “Can I do magic, too?”

  The alchemist returned to the counter. “If you study alchemy, you can.”

  Mandulane skipped across the floor.

  Watching the alchemist, the milkmaid saw the woman flinch when she picked up the silver wedding ring. “Is something wrong?” the milkmaid said.

  “I’m afraid so.” The alchemist pushed the ring across the counter toward the milkmaid. The alchemist retrieved her apron and rubbed her hands with it as if trying to clean molasses from her skin. “It’s tainted. I want nothing to do with it.”

  Fear and guilt rushed through the milkmaid. “But it’s all I have. There’s no other way I can pay.”

  “Just take it,” the alchemist snapped. “Get it out of my shop.” She paused and softened her voice. “No need to pay. Consider what I’ve done as a gift to keeping the Midlands safe. I live here, too. Keeping the Midlands safe keeps me safe.”

  The milkmaid picked up the ring as if it might bite.

  All she felt was the cool and smooth surface of the metal. She wondered what the alchemist felt when she touched the same ring. The milkmaid gave a questioning glance.